“I never find spending time with my mother dreary,” Alexander said. “But yes, Grandfather is in a snit.”
“I imagine I know about what,” Laurence chuckled.
Julia bent her head. She knew of the parties the men discussed, of course, but there was nothing she could add to the conversation. Courtesans didn’t involve themselves in family discussions aside from cooing their acknowledgment over complaints and offering distraction with far more pleasurable activities. They certainly didn’t share their opinions with outsiders to the relationship.
“I’m sure you do.” Alexander shook his head. “Laurence, must you tweak him endlessly with your…your behavior?”
Julia felt him glance at her rather than saw it and fisted her hands at her sides. If Alexander Castleton disliked her, she thought the Earl of Heathfield, the grandfather of the men, might just despise her. He’d given her the absolute cut direct at an opera once. Practically spit on her. She’d been humiliated and yet Laurence had seemed thrilled by the moment. He’d never been so passionate as he had been later that same night.
“My behavior is none of his concern nor yours,” Laurence said. “I do nothing more or less than any other man in my station.”
The light sigh Castleton gave in response sounded like it was threaded with deep exhaustion. But he remained calm as he shrugged. “I suppose you don’t.”
There was an uncomfortable silence that stretched between the two men and Julia squeezed Laurence’s inner elbow to encourage him to try a little harder. As she did so, she gave her best courtesan smile to Alexander. “Mr. Castleton, I hear you’re part of the collective investing in Mr. Grayson Danford’s steam engine.”
Alexander’s eyes widened as if he were astonished at her choice of topic, but he tilted his head. “Er, yes. You’ve heard correctly, though I don’t know how.”
Her smile became more genuine. “Oh, we have our ways, sir.”
“The whisper network of women,” Laurence muttered with a dismissive shake of his head.
Julia ignored him. “I must admit, I’m fascinated. I saw the steam engine that pulled that train to Wales when it was toured around afterward and it was so complex and fascinating. To be a part of that, even on some small level, would be thrilling.”
To her surprise, Alexander Castleton was now just staring at her, lips slightly parted, eyes wide like she was speaking someforeign language rather than discussing a topic he should have, in theory, had interest in.
“Yes,” he said at last. “The potential for the engine and all its uses is thrilling, indeed.” He turned away from her and focused his attention back to his cousin. “I wanted to say good evening to you before I departed, so I’ll bid you goodnight now. And…and a good evening to you, Miss Comerford.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but pivoted away from the two of them without a backward glance as he moved through the busy ballroom with as much precision as a jungle cat.
Julia let out a sigh at the same moment Laurence did and that brought her attention back to him. He shrugged at her. “He really can be boring as toast, can’t he? You were kind to try to act interested in his ridiculous hobbies.”
She shifted. “I’m not sure if the hobbies are boring,” she said slowly. “They say steam is the future. I do find a great deal of interest in the topic.”
“Well, I certainly don’t,” Laurence said with a dismissive wave. “And I hear enough about it from my cousin.”
“Then I’ll change the subject,” she said. “Are you truly quarreling with your grandfather?”
Laurence’s gaze darted away, like this subject was as distasteful to him as the earlier one. “Oh, it’s a regular occurrence, Julia. The old man and I have a long history of spats. He gets puffed up over something I’ve done or said, we snarl at each other, then it all blows over. I tend to get my way.”
“Yes, I suppose you do,” Julia said softly.
There was a delicate dance a courtesan performed with a gentleman. To offer comfort beyond the physical when it was required. To be a sounding board and support as much as a body to bury himself in. But Laurence didn’t seem to want that in this moment. He cut himself away by releasing her arm, by turningslightly aside, by breaking his gaze. She read all those cues and felt…empty.
And yet this was what the world was. She drew a shaky breath and caught his hand again. “Come spin me around the dancefloor, eh? We can forget all our troubles.”
He laughed as he let her draw him away and they moved to the dancefloor. But even as he swept her up in a lively jig, even as he held her a bit too close and let his hands dip a bit too low, that empty feeling remained and niggled. And she had no clear idea about what to do about it.
Alexander turned his horse into the drive at his modest home fifteen minutes from the party. He hardly knew how he’d gotten there, he’d been so distracted on the ride, almost like an automaton as he made turns and dodged slower traffic. His mind had just kept turning back to the interaction with Laurence and Julia Comerford.
The woman was a confusion and a distraction, and not just to his cousin, it seemed. Alexander had never once left her company without feeling a bit turned on his head. It was why he so studiously tried to avoid her.
He swung down from his mount and handed over the reins before he headed into the house. He’d lived in this home for ten years, since he’d purchased it after his father’s death. It was a simple place, not extravagant, and the purchase had left plenty of his inheritance to invest with Grayson Danvers and his canals and engines.
A topic he hadn’t expected Miss Comerford to broach, and certainly not with such verve.
“Good evening, Mr. Castleton,” Alexander’s butler, Riggs, said and took his gloves and hat and heavier jacket. “Welcome home. Your mother is still awake in the parlor.”
Alexander drew back a fraction, for he hadn’t expected that at this hour. “Waiting for me?”
